Waltz of the Snowflakes
by Trayne
Summary: The Planet has a story to tell... the snow sends the beginnings of a dream to a special child and a broken man. A late holiday fic loosely based on the Nutcracker.
1. Act I

This should have been done before Crimmus, and now it definitely won't be done before midnight, so I'll have to post about half of this year's winter ficlet thingie. It's rough and most likely won't be liked, but hell, I'm rusty. I'll come back and heavily edit.

Disclaimer: FFVII is Square's, the _Nutcracker _is E.T.A. Hoffmann's, and the music associated with it is written by Tchaikovsky.

Waltz of the Snowflakes

Snow can tell of many things, though not many would think of it. The purest sign of winter often melts away with little mourning of its passing. Who thinks of where snow comes from, where it goes? How many tales lie in each, unique crystal of ice?

No one knows that each is the crystalline tear of the ones from long ago… And now, they have a story to tell, beginning with a special little girl and a man who have never met… The little cursed angel and scarlet demon…

* * *

"Jophiel," said a stern voice, struggling to sound authoritative, "go to bed this instant." 

The snippy reply was expected. "No."

Professor Gast tried giving his most intimidating glare at the girl before him, still clad in his lab coat though she was in a nightgown. She frowned at him return, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips in a defiant pout.

The professor sighed and placed on hand on his hip, the other running over his face. "I don't believe this," he muttered.

"Well, excuse me!" Jophiel jabbed a small finger at him. "You're the one who just had to tell me that every Christmas Eve some weird old man creeps into other people's houses to give them stuff!"

"That's just an old story, Jophiel, and there aren't many who believe it anymore. It's just a way for little kids to beha-"

"I _am_ a kid, if you forgot!" Jophiel stamped a bare foot, her hands in fists at her sides. "Some creepy old man is gonna come here, and someone has to protect Ifalna and the baby! I don't care if I get a stupid piece of coal; no one is coming near us!" She seemed to calm down some, regaining her cool composure and crossing her arms again. "That's what you said when we moved here, right?"

At most times Professor Gast would forget that Jophiel was just a child of eight years, because of the fact that she was no mere child. However, as he stood there looking at her - long, silver braid of hair tossed over a shoulder and jade eyes flashing all the more because of the Mako - he decided not to contradict her little rant with insignificant facts. So what if coal was a rare natural resource since electricity and now Mako energy were being used? So what if no one if that house happened to follow any of the faiths that celebrated Christmas?

Jophiel's life had only begun to become less monotonous since Ifalna moved in and became pregnant, and she had become very protective of the woman as well as the unborn child. She had never before had the chance to become attached to anyone, and Ifalna accepted the child unconditionally, even after knowing of the child's 'mother'. Within the past month, though, Icicle Town became alive with bright lights and festive colors, which Jophiel found fascinating as she had grown bored with snow long ago. Gast gave in to her pestering and explained about the various holidays that were celebrated at this time of year, and it was the story of Santa Claus that really kept the child energized for that very night.

Though he wasn't supposed to necessarily let Jophiel act this way, her stubbornness and him already having a sort of pitying affection towards her made him think twice about crushing her hopes. There was no Hojo or ShinRa around, so why not let her be the child she was supposed to be?

"Alright, alright." Professor Gast ran a hand through his thinning brown hair. "You can stay up, but don't make too much of a ruckus."

"Yes! …I don't suppose we can make cookies?"

Now he was quizzical. "What for? I was under the impression that you would beat Santa Claus to a bloody pulp if he showed up."

"You're right! But I figured we would need bait…" Jophiel smirked – in a way that Gast supposed would look chilling if she were older – and crossed her arms behind her head. "You know, since I figured I haven't been very good 'cause you're usually yelling or arguing with me, the fat guy may just pass me by. He has a lotta kids to give presents to, and he probably wouldn't even want to bother giving coal to…me…" Jophiel's voice trailed off and her arms lowered as did her eyes, but a moment later she closed them and shook her head, balling her hands into fists and looking at the professor with determination.

"Tell me another story!"

"Hm?" Gast had begun to finish his daily notes of both Jophiel and Ifalna's progress at the table in the upper room, and now turned to Jophiel who stood near the steps to the basement rooms. "What? Why?"

"So I won't fall asleep! You can write and talk at the same time, right? I hear you doing it all the time…"

Professor Gast placed a fist in front of his mouth and cleared his throat. "Well now…" When he looked at the silver-haired girl again, his head tilted slightly. "…Aren't you supposed to be in bed…?"

"Professor!"

"Oh, right." At her indignant look, Gast cleared his throat again. "Well then… I happen to remember some of a tale of a girl not much different than you, and her Nutcracker…"

"…Um, her _what_?"

"Oh, not what you're thinking of. Be quiet and let me tell you."

The Professor turned back to his notes, but continued to talk to Jophiel, who settled on the blanket and against the pillow she had propped up against the railing of the stairs. She had to be well rested for facing off against Santa, after all.

"I believe it began with a Christmas Eve party, and a little girl named…what was it…? Ah, yes, Clara. All the children but Clara received presents, and her…estranged uncle gave her a Nutcracker, though her brother broke it…"

* * *

Somewhere in a pale space, two figures quietly watched, listened. This was a place where many lives were gathered; yet these two weren't quite alive. 

A young man stood quietly in this strange place, and an ageless girl sat slumped in a small throne of swirling green mists.

The young man seemed to be looking up, which was odd considering that everywhere around him looked the same. There was neither end nor beginning to this place, and there didn't seem to be anything solid he was even standing on.

"Now…"

His voice, smooth and youthful, didn't seem so loud in this 'place' where many voices could be heard at once, though at this particular spot the moans, whispers, and cries seemed quieter. Perhaps because of the special creature that sat in that ethereal throne, who didn't seem as lively as her companion.

He turned and somehow walked to her, kneeling before her to look into eyes that didn't quite see him. "Shall we give him a rest from his nightmares, and let her dream begin?"

* * *

Jophiel's head snapped up with a jerk. She wasn't sure when she had dozed off, but it couldn't have been for very long. Professor Gast had left a lot of gaps in whatever story he had been trying to tell, and all she could remember were bits about that girl Clara and her weird toy that turned into some kind of knight or prince; a rat that seemed evil but came out of nowhere; and something about fairies and sugar… 

Though it was more than the fact that she couldn't hear the professor anymore that she suddenly woke up; there was a distinct sound coming from outside. He was here!

Jophiel threw off the blanket she had folded over herself and went to the door, swiftly undoing the locks while steeling herself for the battle at hand. She paused only momentarily with her hand on the knob, took a deep breath, then opened the door.

"Alright, you old geezer, time to-!"

Her breath caught when she opened the door, and the swirling snow that drifted in was forgotten. So too was the cold that seeped through her sleepwear and curled around her bare legs. Nothing could have caused such a chill to shudder through her at the man in red before her in the snow, who was far from the saint she had expected.

He was much darker, clad in ragged scarlet and black. His presence was far more foreboding than some old man bearing lumps of coal. Jophiel was filled with a strange sense of dread that went beyond needles and sterile white rooms and cruel scientists who forbade her to call them 'father'.

And yet... she was fascinated.

This terrifying, beautiful man raised his head to meet her glowing jade orbs with his deep, penetrating crimson, and another chill jolted through her almost at the point of being painful.

"What is going…? Jophiel!"

At hearing the professor's voice, Jophiel regained her senses and realized the man crouched before her was injured; his blood dripping onto the pure white snow made her finally go cold, as the sight of the sanguine liquid often did.

_P…professor…_

The child wasn't sure if she had said the word or if the man before did, as she could somehow sense his deep voice flowing through her. She didn't fully collect herself until she felt herself being pulled back into the house by Professor Gast, who immediately went to the man in the snow. After a few moments she became aware of his telling her to close the door, which she dazedly did, securing the locks before turning to see what was happening. Professor Gast had hastily cleared his table of all his papers and various other materials and was laying the man upon it. Jophiel was shocked, as the professor was always so careful with his recordings and such, and slowly began to walk towards him.

She was almost close enough to look carefully at the man in red when her voice, unusually quiet, spoke out. "Professor…?"

Gast jerked around, as if he had forgotten her; the front of his lab coat was already stained crimson. He had been mumbling to himself and perhaps to the other man, but now he was silent as the figure on the table lay still. Jophiel had never seen the professor this way; he loked horrified. But then, why was he helping that man?

Before she could say anything, the professor spoke first, his voice monotone.

"Go to Ifalna. Now."

For once, Jophiel didn't defy him, and grabbed her blanket on the way as she was feeling terribly cold now. She wrapped the cover around herself and looked back once to see Professor Gast bent over the man at the table, shaking his head and muttering again while he examined him. Unable to stand looking any longer, Jophiel carefully made her way downstairs.

Though it was supposed to be colder down there since it was underground, the professor had made sure there was extra heating for Ifalna. However, nothing could quite compare to the glow that seemed to emanate from the woman who lay in peaceful slumber, away from the cold and the terror upstairs. As the professor had demonstrated on several occasions, he had always doted on Ifalna because she was special in a different way than Jophiel. Now, in the final stages of her pregnancy, Ifalna seemed even more so; her glow and perpetual calmness made her…holy even.

A small, honest smile escaped Jophiel as she gently laid her hand on Ifalna's extended stomach, and the warmth of the woman and her unborn child flowed through the girl, staving off some of the chill.

…But not all of it. Jophiel slowly retracted her hand as she turned to look up towards where she knew Professor Gast and especially the man in scarlet were.

She was up the stairs again before she knew it, though she had taken them slowly. Again she approached Professor Gast, who was wiping his bloody hands on a towel and still shaking his head.

"There's nothing more I can do... God, what has he done? I can't fix this..."

The professor paid Jophiel no mind as he walked past her and made his way downstairs. Jophiel silently watched him go, then stepped up the table.

The man was apparently sleeping now, though he looked sick or something. But seeing as he was injured, it would make sense that he would be weak. Even so, he seemed unnaturally pale; a high contrast to the black he was dressed in and the scarlet that was wrapped around his head and shoulders, spilling onto the floor. For the first time Jophiel noticed the metal claw of his left arm that lay over his torso, and tentatively her fingers ran over the cool metal that was copper, gold, or something she couldn't name.

She should have been frightened, but instead was only quietly intrigued. This man was not normal.

_Is he...like me?_

Jophiel settled into the chair near the table, blanket and all, and laid her head on the man's arm, soon falling asleep.


	2. Act II

This is horribly rough, but it hella snowed today and I felt compelled to finally finish this. Rest assured that it will be refined sometime.

Disclaimer: Obviously I lay claim only to this plot and all unfamiliar characters.

* * *

Waltz of the Snowflakes

The countdown began not with the slowing of a ticking clock, but a gunshot.

**Bang.**

Now the clock was all he heard, counting down to his imminent death. Sometimes he thought he saw things - a blinding fluorescent light; the silhouette of someone leaning over him; flashes of a past he could never reclaim. At other times he could feel things - the blade of a scalpel and needles violating his flesh; regret and anger over something worth lamenting. But all his senses seemed repressed, deadened as if from a drug.

Only his hearing wasn't affected; the ticking clock was deafening, and he idly wondered how long he would be able to stand it before he finally died. Maybe he was already going insane.

Abruptly, the ticking stopped.

A bell tolled.

* * *

Vincent's crimson eyes snapped open at the same time he felt warmth on his arm, and heard a gasp at his side along with an ominous scuttling around him. Immediately his eyes went to the flash of silver he had seen in the corner of his vision, and met the jade orbs of a silver-haired girl whom he realized had been resting on his arm. The child, though she had been distracted by something behind her, kept her eyes locked with his until the scuttling grew louder persistently.

She frowned as she whirled around, glaring fiercely. "Go away!" she growled, but suddenly yelped when her leg was grabbed by an unseen force. Immediately moving into action, Vincent wrapped his right arm around her and leapt up from his prone position. The table he had been laying on was splintered from the sudden assault of the mass of black creatures attacking.

As he landed, he reacted before he could assess the things before him, pushing the child behind him and striking out with his left hand. One of the creatures that had leapt at him ended up impaling itself on the claws that adorned his left hand; he didn't know which was more horrifying, the claw or what he finally saw was a monstrous rat that hung from it.

There was no time to think over this as he was very much aware of the little girl still shielded behind him; his altered state; and the teeming mass of creatures before them. His right hand felt for a gun that wasn't there; narrowing his eyes, he brandished his gauntlet and tore into the fiends.

Blood was pounding in his ears; he felt a growl rising up from within him, and through the new, horrible, powerful and murderous urges coming from seemingly different parts of his sanity he stayed intact. One command rose above all this, one that drove him to slash and rip and tear apart because he could **not** fail, not again, never again.

And that was the need to protect.

The swarm of monster rats seemed to gather and form a new entity, and as it took shape he almost paid no heed to the bared fangs that pricked his lip.

Logic was leaving him swiftly, screaming that this was just another nightmare; the endless darkness and eternal presence of beasts, hell-spawn and torment, this is what he has become and made himself and there will be no escape. _You're still sleeping._

Hojo, having risen from the rats like a king, smiled unnaturally wide as he raised his gun.

"Leave him alone!"

A glimpse of flowing white, and that girl had grabbed the tail of Hojo's horrendous form. The mad scientist glanced her way, and Vincent didn't give him time to attack her. His claw shot for his throat.

Too late.

**Bang.**

"Mister!"

Ignoring the pain spreading through his abdomen, Vincent tore out Hojo's gullet. His nemesis let out an inhuman roar, and the black mass of rats seemed to pulsate and grow, spreading to consume everything around them. Wide, startled jade eyes filled his vision for a moment before Vincent clutched the girl to him and shielded her with body and cape as the darkness drowned them both.

After the horrible rush and roar, everything was starkly quiet. There were only his ragged breaths, then…

"Hey, mister? Are you all right?"

Realizing his eyes had been shut, Vincent slowly opened them to a bleary, blinding white world. His knees were numb from kneeling in the snow, insignificant to the small warmth coming from the child on his arms.

With a soft groan, he released her and would have fallen forward onto the frozen ground had she not caught him, helping him to sit up into a slouched position.

"You're b…bleeding pretty badly, mister."

What kind of world was this, where a little girl would kneel before him to place a trembling hand on his open wound? A little girl whose hand glowed and healed that wound, unnatural as her pristine white nightgown stained with blood, her mussed silver hair, and – when she raised her eyes to his, smiling – the slit pupils in her fearless, abnormally bright gaze?

A little girl… who was hauntingly familiar…

He opened his mouth to speak, and his voice, hoarse from disuse, wouldn't come at first. "Who… are you?"

The child's smile didn't falter as she stood to gently place her hands on his shoulders. "I think I'm just as confused as you are, mister." She broke his gaze to look around her. "I dunno where we are or why it's snowing…"

Grunting, Vincent pushed himself to his feet, still a little sore even after the girl's strange healing. Unconsciously he placed his hand atop her head as he stood aside, surveying this place that set him at unease after so long a stay in hell. The landscape was an endless white, and what he thought was the sky was a barely noticeable shade of grey, from which came a steady shower of snow.

A light touch brushed his hand, and he looked down to see the girl take it from her head and into her own.

She caught his questioning look and shrugged. "So I don't get lost. Dunno where to go from here."

Vincent nodded and returned his thoughtful gaze to the bleak and serene scene around him. He sighed deeply, taking advantage of the moment of peace, however little he deserved it. The snowy landscape started to bring him unease and a faint recollection of trudging through snow and arriving before a door.

He had to find the professor, impossible as it was. Instead he found this girl, and…

"I think I really like you, mister." She surprised him further by squeezing his hand a little. "I don't really know you, but the professor does, and you're really weird. …I didn't think there was anyone else like me."

"No." Vincent shook his head. "You're not like me."

"What makes you say that?"

Now he looked back down at her, and she met his eyes much too calmly for a child so young, after seeing him face monsters not unlike himself, after holding his bleeding form. And Vincent had the sinking, stunning feeling that were he to lay out his sins she wouldn't even blink.

Even though he didn't answer her, she still smiled at him, swinging his hand a bit. "I like you anyway."

Before he could deny that this young life could accept the shell of a man he was, a sound from beyond distracted him. It started as a laugh or a cry, and it grew until it sounded like it was swirling along them with the crystal flakes. The child pressed against his leg in bewilderment and Vincent held her there with a hand on her back.

"What's going on? That sound… Mister?"

He couldn't answer her; his head was swimming, his vision growing dark and the world disappearing from his view as he found himself falling backwards.

"Hey! What are you doing?" The girl came into his view, leaning over him with a concerned look.

Vincent's lips moved of their own accord, it seemed. "Sleep…"

_It's not yet time for this redemption._

The child tried to retort, but already he saw her eyes grow heavy; he felt her tiny fingers lacing with his as the snowflakes danced around their prone forms, and then… nothing.

* * *

"And the dreams continue…" 

Far, far from where a girl lay tangled in blankets and dreams and a man in a coffin sealed by guilt, a young man continued to watch delicate threads of life as they began to entwine; the thread was fragile, incomplete, but it would hold.

"Now, we wait… my dear."

He turned and went to a timeless figure on an ethereal throne. He went down on a knee and gently held her passive face in his hand.

"Time has been merciful to you, but it won't be forever. …You must watch over all of them. These young ones will depend on you."

He stood and turned to resume his watch over the passing ages, awaiting the next one to arrive.

And the ageless girl sat in silence; on her face the ghost of a smile; in her eyes the shimmer of tears.


End file.
